OK I'll Bite the Soap and not Curse
by Keesha
Summary: Answer to Forum Challenge to "Place the following concepts in a short story less than 3 parts please and/or 5,000 words "Why Nate doesn't curses? Hetty with a bottle of liquid soap and "Ok, I'll bite." Rated "T" for implied words.
1. Chapter 1

Staring at his shirt in stunned disbelief, Nate drifted away from the bullpen. With a satisfied smirk on his face, Callen proceeded to plop into his chair and watch Nate's receding back. Eventually, when Nate disappeared from view G spun around to face his partner in crime, Sam.

"_Did you ever notice Nate doesn't curse_?" Callen queried his colleague. "I mean wouldn't you have cursed a blue moon if someone stained your brand new shirt and tie?"

Frankly, Sam was feeling a bit guilty about what they had just done to Nate. It really was not nice and maybe bordering on mean. "What?"

"Nate. Ever heard him curse?" Callen repeated patiently.

OK, that was out of left field Sam thought, though Callen did have a point so Sam pondered the question. "Dunno G. I don't recall Nate ever swearing, but I never really thought about it either."

Silence descended over the bullpen as the men contemplated the question at hand.

"But you know G, it was kind of mean, scaring him, making him spill coffee. Like a school boy prank, knocking a tray in the lunch line," Sam finished. He glanced around to check if someone was going to come and punish him for his uncivilized behavior.

Callen grunted noncommittally having already moved on. "Nate will go to Hetty. The Queen of Stains will tell him how to fix it. She might even offer him new clothes from her magical closet. Don't worry. Hetty will take care of it."

"_Ok. I'll bite_. Take care of what, Mr. Callen?" Hetty inquired appearing out of nowhere, as was her norm.

Callen slowly spun his chair around to face his boss. "Maybe not a bell around your neck but what about one of those proximity sensors, like they use in laser tag? It would buzz when you were approaching."

"A novel but impractical suggestion. Battery consumption would be a nightmare. No, the bell is actually the superior idea, being self-sustainable," she answered philosophically. "Now, exactly what will I be taking care of gentleman?"

"Ah, not for us Hetty. For Nate. It seems he accidently spilled coffee on his new shirt and tie. We figured you'd know how he could get the stain out," Sam stated very seriously.

"I see. And your role in making this stain appear on Mr. Getz's clothing was exactly what?" she inquired facing Callen and allowing her eyes to drill into his soul.

Even though he knew it would not work against Hetty, Callen gave her his 'hurt altar boy' face anyway. "Why do you assume I had something to do with it? Maybe it was Kensi, or Deeks or even goody-two shoes over there," he said gesturing towards his partner.

"Oh I have no doubt that Mr. Hanna, once coerced by you, played a pivotal role in this incident. Am I right Mr. Hanna," she asked still glaring at Callen.

Sam maintained his pious facial expression and sanctimoniously nodded his head in concurrence. "Exactly, coerced."

"Well played, Mr. Hanna. Now perhaps I should go try to right this wrong and assist Mr. Getz with his dilemma. Those types of stains are tricky." Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, Hetty brought forth a bottle _of liquid soap_. Both men, experienced in the mystical ways of the great Hetty, did not even flinch when the bottle appeared out of nowhere. "This should do the trick," she stated triumphantly then added as an afterthought, "though that tie was hideous and may not be worth saving."

As she started to walk away, Callen threw a parting query at her. "Hetty, did you ever notice Nate never curses?"

Hetty halted for a moment. "Well maybe he has not been provoked enough to use foul language. And Mr. Callen," she said in her singsong voice, "that is not to be taken by you as a personal challenge to annoy Mr. Getz to the point he curses."

The calculating look that had entered Callen's eyes drained away and he gave a slight shrug and sigh in compliance.

"Perhaps you could try a more civilized approach," Hetty continued. "Like, oh I don't know, politely asking him why he doesn't curse. I realize this may not be as much fun, but it will save you from a future reprimanding by yours truly. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Hetty," both men answered simultaneously.

"Good. Now back to work," she admonished as she went in search of Nate.

When he thought she was out of earshot Callen said, "Do you really think she meant it, about not annoying Nate to try to get him to curse?"

"Yes I did, Mr. Callen," came the disembodied voice of Hetty.

Sam quickly ducked his head and started working on the mounds of paperwork on his desk.

Callen sighed, thinking about the subject more, before finally shaking his head and turning to his laptop to read his email.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Nate showed up in the bullpen, not in a suit and tie, but in normal Nate-style work clothes. He hovered by the Agent's desk waiting for the man to glance up. Callen, just because he could, kept Nate waiting until the precise moment when Nate was about to speak and then he looked up at Nate with his innocent baby-blue eyes.

"Ah yeah, Callen. Could I have a few minutes of your time? I need to finish my quarterly ah..." Nate paused. He could never think of a good word for these mandatory, quarterly psych exams he had to do on all the agents. "...paperwork," he finished lamely.

"He means psych exam," Sam added helpfully glancing up from his newspaper. "And boy, do you need it G," he added wickedly.

Callen smirked at Sam but addressed Nate. "Gosh is it that time again? Seems like we did this, oh I don't know, a mere 3 months ago."

"Well this is a quarterly report, as in four times a year and you know how time flies when you're having fun," Nate offered as a weak comeback. Quick snappy repartee was not his genre.

However, Callen gave Nate points for trying and therefore rewarded him by rising without further delaying tactics. "Lead on MacDuff."

"Don't let him fool you Nate," Sam called after them. "G wouldn't know Shakespeare from the crime dog."

As they walked over to the private office Nate used for these events, Callen once again thought about his hypothesis that Nate did not curse. G really was not in the mood to answer any of Nate's questions so he decided to use this time to get into the mind of N. Getz instead.

Once the room was secured and both men where comfortably seated, Nate opened his manila folder and started his exam. "Ok Callen, let's review your cases of the last quarter. Is there anything you'd like to tell me? About the cases or how you felt about them, the outcome…" he left the sentence open-ended praying that for once Callen would finish it.

"Well you know," Callen said, scratching the stubble on his chin then leaning a little forward to convey sincerity.

"Yes," Nate encouraged, mildly excited that Callen was actually offering to tell him something right off the bat without the usual 15 minutes of song and dance.

"I have been pondering this particular dilemma…"

Nate leaned forward in anticipation.

"Sometimes it keeps me awake at night…"

Nate was all but salivating; off to such a wonderful start.

"And I thought about keeping it to myself, you know trying to solve it on my own…"

Nate gave a little negative nod of his head to indicate that was a bad idea.

"But I decided to, just this once, try bringing it to you..."

Now Nate nodded his head positively to encourage such behavior.

Callen sat back in his chair and began contemplated the far wall of the room. Minutes ticked by as Nate patiently waited. Callen kept studying the wall as if it contained a great work of art. Nate tried to remain patient but a large portion of him was dying to turn around and see what was so interesting about the wall that Callen was so studiously studying. It seemed like they had gotten off to good start but five minutes later, Nate finally decided he been had, again, and he sighed loudly. "Callen, do you really have something to ask me? Or is this your latest question avoidance technique?"

Callen grinned smugly at Nate. "Avoidance technique. What did you think of it? I don't plan to tell you anything. Does that make you mad Nate? That I sit here and waste your time? Do you want to yell at me? Maybe curse me out?"

Nate's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. He had no clue where this one was going. "I admit you do frustrate me, Callen. But I only want to help. I'd never do anything to hurt you," he answered calmly.

"But don't you get tired of this crap? That every session I look for new ways not to answer your questions. Don't you want to curse me out? A little 'f-you' Callen. Maybe a quietly whispered 'damn' in the dark?"

Nate was totally lost and yes frustrated. "This has got to be the weirdest conversation avoidance technique you have tried on me yet, Callen. Is there a point here?"

Callen suddenly sat forward and threw his most piercing, death ray stare directly at Nate. "Yeah there is a point. Why don't you curse?"

"Curse?" Nate repeated dumbfounded.

"Yeah. I have never heard you utter a curse in the three years I have known you. Certainly none of the 'wash your mouth out with soap' ones and I don't even think I have heard a 'gosh', 'golly' or 'shucks'!"

Nate laughed. "Is that what this is about? You think I don't curse and want to know why?"

"That's about it," Callen said, leaning back and making a steeple with his fingers in imitation of what Nate often did at these sessions when waiting for a reply.

"I'm kind of surprised at your tactics Callen. I rather had you pegged for a man of action. I would have thought you would have spent the next week coming up with new tortuous ways to humiliate me in hopes I would break down and swear. I am surprised you decided to ask." Nate saw a fleet expression cross Callen's face and then he got it. "Unless, of course, you were ordered not to do that by some unknown benefactor," he concluded.

Callen gave a combined 'who-me' and 'I don't care' shrug.

"Anyway, since you asked so nicely, it is really quite simple, why I do not curse. I went to religious-based schools growing up. Fathers, Priests and Nuns were my role models, mentors, and disciplinarians. And you think Hetty has supernatural powers. Some of those Nuns, they can hear an impure thought at 200 feet."

Callen nodded sagely to encourage Nate to continue.

"But that is not the entire story," Nate continued. "I also had a speech impediment growing up. I stuttered, badly when I was younger. Words that began with "D," or "S," or "F" were particularly hard for me. I could not decently curse, even if I wanted too. Oh, some of the boys could mutter curses under their breath and the Priest would not hear, but me, the few times I tried, I took so long to get them out that I was caught and punished. So I gave up trying. I never really thought about it as an adult but even though I have more or less overcome my stuttering, I never incorporated those words back into my vocabulary."

"That's it?" Callen queried.

"That's it," Nate confirmed.

"Huh. Gotta tell you Nate," Callen said rising from the table. "This has been an eye opening session. Good material covered today. Why don't you take some time to reflect on what you have told me," G suggested as he headed for the door. "And again Nate, good work." The door opened, closed and Callen was gone.

Nate silently sat in the chair for a few minutes before closing Callen's case file with a sigh. Once again, the operative had wiggled off the hook. Nate wondered and not for the first time, if anyone would even know if he never tried to interview Callen again. Maybe he could make up things to put in the Agent's file. After all, the man was an enigma, so who'd know if Nate 'faked it.' Nate sighed. He could not do that, cheat. It would be unethical and after all, he was supposed to take the high road and be an example to the other Agents, or at least he thought he should.

The door opened and Callen's blond head peered around the frame. "Damn?" he suggested before quickly closing the door.

Nate sighed again. Maybe he should try to learn to curse. He had a feeling that Callen would drive him to it someday and if so, he wanted to be proficient.


End file.
